


One of the Lucky Ones

by Indigo_Penstrokes



Category: Bandstand - Oberacker/Oberacker & Taylor
Genre: M/M, Nightmares, PTSD, Past Character Death, i swear its not as sad as the tags sound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 17:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15296163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indigo_Penstrokes/pseuds/Indigo_Penstrokes
Summary: Johnny doesn't remember much, but what happens when he starts to remember fragments of before his Jeep flipped?





	One of the Lucky Ones

**Author's Note:**

> I love Johnny with my whole heart, so I'm sorry about this in advance.  
> Anyway, enjoy!

Johnny wakes up from the dream panting and covered in sweat. His thoughts sluggish, like they're trying to move through molasses. It was the same dream he's been having for months, or he thinks it's the same dream; he doesn't remember much of the dream itself, just the feelings it always leaves behind. He's always scared and sad, like he's afraid of losing someone that's already gone. But there's something else, the way the dream starts, like he's happy, really happy in fact. It's almost like he's remembering being in love, but that's impossible, he never had a sweetheart back home. Unless there was someone while he was overseas, but that can't be it, can it?

A sharp pain flares in his back, effectively drawing him from his thoughts on the impossible dream. 

Johnny groans as he rolls over, reaching for the pill bottle that's on his bedside table. His fingers brush it, but it falls off the edge before he can grab it. It hits the floor with an abnormally loud thud, but it doesn’t sound like it opened. 

“Damn it,” He mutters, propping himself up carefully, his back protesting violently at the change of position without any painkillers. Maybe he'll just let pain take its course and pray for sleep. 

The phantoms of memories are starting to press against his thoughts again, and the pain isn’t fading anytime soon. He doesn’t want to move, he just wants the pain to stop. The pills make it bearable at best, but it never quite goes away. But tonight, bearable is going to have to be enough. He needs to sleep because the band has a big gig tomorrow and he can’t be out of it. He can’t let the band down just because he didn’t want to take his pills. 

Eventually he gets up, gritting his teeth through the pain, and grabs his pills from where the bottle rolled under the bed. He shakes one into his palm, it’s a wonder how such a little thing can take away so much. He takes the pill and puts the bottle next to the glass of water on his nightstand. Laying back down, he feels the weight of sleep pull at his eyelids until he passes out again.

He doesn't sleep well, his brain swirling with barely there memories. An impression of a smile that turns into an echo of a scream without a face. His Jeep flipping, one, two, three times. That same ghost of a face looking at him through fog, or maybe it's smoke, but the nightmare shifts too fast for him to think at the pace his thoughts are moving. Suddenly through the murk of the dream he feels an arm around his shoulders and a flutter in his heart, but it's gone in a flash, his Jeep flipping again, one, two, three times.

He wakes up with tears wetting his face and an unknown feeling squeezing his heart.

~•~

“How do you deal with the nightmares?” Johnny sits down next to where Jimmy is packing up his saxophone, his back pressed against the wall. It hurts less that way.

Jimmy just blinks at him owlishly, thinking of a response, “Well, if I'm being honest, I don't really know.” 

“Oh.” Johnny just nods. He really wasn't expecting a concrete answer, but maybe Jimmy would know how to make them stop.

“Why do you ask?” Jimmy sets the case aside and sits in the chair facing Johnny.

Johnny frowns, “I've been having these nightmares, or I think they are, it's hard to remember after my Jeep flipped three times and had three operations on my back. I think they're memories from before my Jeep flipped, y’know? But there's something in them that I don't really know what it is, like it feels like I was so happy and then there's a scream and I feel,” he pauses looking for the right words, “I feel empty, and alone, like I lost someone, but I don't remember who.”

Jimmy looks stunned, his mouth opening and closing in noiseless words. 

“Sorry, I said too much.” Johnny stands up to leave, flinching slightly when his back flares up. He really should take his pain pills soon, but he hates how slow they make everything.

“No no, don't go, it wasn't too much, just a lot to process.” Jimmy follows him hastily, pushing his glasses back up. 

“Oh, okay.” Johnny nods again, hands tapping out a rhythm on his thighs as he stands there, unsure of what to do.

“We can talk more tomorrow if you'd like.” Jimmy gives him a small smile, and his heart flutters in a way he's felt before, he's sure he has, but he can't remember. 

“I'd like that.” Jimmy leaves the club with a small smile on his face. 

His head buzzes the whole drive home, feelings and memories twisting together into one unrecognizable tangle.

~•~

Johnny dreams again that night. He dreams of the usual, his Jeep flipping it's one, two, three times. But there's more to it; he looks over to the seat next to him. His passenger is no longer a murky figure, but rather a flesh and blood person with dark hair and terrified eyes. It makes him think of the smile and the scream he knows will follow.

“Hold on!” He seems to shout at Johnny, but it's like he's far away and the air is muffling the sound. Everything is moving in slow motion.

And then the Jeep is flipping again, one, two, three times. And he's holding on for his life. And his passenger is screaming. And his heart is breaking. 

_And then he wakes up._

Drenched in sweat and shaking like a leaf, Johnny flips on the lamp. His back throbs like it's remembering the one, two, three flips of the Jeep, but he doesn't take his pain pills, not yet. All he can think about is that face. 

He remembers a face. Nothing else, but it's a start. Or maybe it’s an end.

Slowly he gets out of bed, pacing as he tries to shake off the remnants of the nightmare. But they seem to stick, like a fly caught in honey. Unable to get rid of the cold feeling that’s seeping into his chest, he heads for his drum kit. Playing should keep the ghosts away until morning. 

He starts by tapping out a simple rhythm on the snare, then adding symbols and high hat. The haze starts to lift like it always does when he plays, but so does the memory of the face. The feelings don't fade. They never seem to. He doesn’t know what to do with them; Jimmy would probably know. Jimmy, who’s so put together and smart. Who saved the band in New York and has always been there for them. Who’s been there for Johnny whenever he needs someone to go to. Jimmy, who makes his heart beat just a little bit faster whenever he laughs at one of Johnny’s jokes, or when he offers to drive him home when his pills are making him a little hazier than usual. Jimmy, who's trying to make the world better with his law degree. 

_Jimmy, who he feels so many unknown feelings for._

Johnny drops his arms to his sides, his back giving a warning twinge. He needs to take his pills, and maybe he could do with the world slowing down a bit just this once.

It's only after he's left the drums he realizes he was playing Love Will Come and Find Me Again.

**Author's Note:**

> As always comments and kudos will make my day!  
> Also hit me up on tumblr @ad-astra-de-luna


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